Going to the doctor, or the dentist, is viewed currently as a last resort. Other bugs, illnesses and health problems haven’t suddenly stopped but we like to pretend they have. We’re avoiding surgeries and hospitals, unless we can’t avoid them.
Even the three-year-old knows about the ‘nasty virus’. A couple of days ago I printed out some information sheets for very young children. ‘Coronavirus’ is a character in a picture story designed to explain but not to frighten. I printed out two copies for the youngest. They’ll be able to colour them in as well.
I delivered a box of ‘Celebrations’ to their cottage earlier. Their mother isn’t well so I’m not sure what we’re celebrating, but the children will enjoy them anyway. Walking back to the farmhouse I picked a couple of hedge garlic leaves. And ate them. We’ve got chives in the grass, clusters of wild garlic by one of the yurt platforms, (sadly without its yurt right now), and hedge garlic is growing everywhere. Any passing vampire would doubtless get to the bottom of the lane, sniff the air, have a re-think and turn back. At this time of year anyway.
But the tonic fairies have visited in the night. The bottle crate is full and it’s mostly populated with empty fevertrees. Our secretive visitors may not have found a vaccine for C-19, but they could have picked up a little malaria immunity.
Last night’s supper was gin-free but the garlic was flowing. A vegan mayo experiment changed, due to the addition of ramson leaves, into a runny but tasty dipping sauce for fried potatoes. Mary Tudor famously said that when she died and was opened up, ‘Calais’ would be written on her heart. It might be ‘garlic’ written on mine, but hopefully we won’t find out.